


What Dreams May Come

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: General, Post-War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2003-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 22:03:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3744996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Cotton is having nightmares. She, Sam and Frodo try to settle back into life after the Scouring.><br/>I'd give it a PG-13 rating. Some content is not appropritate for very young readers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Autumn 1419

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

_It was November by the time the four hobbit Travellers returned to the Shire and were faced with the final battle in the War of the Ring. While the Cotton boys went to Bywater for the Battle, Rose Cotton saddled a pony and rode far and wide in the surrounding towns to spread word rousing the Shirefolk. Through all their efforts the Battle was won and Sharkey defeated. After, Sam and Frodo went to stay at the Cottons' home for a time but it was two days before Rose got back home from her ride as her poor pony had gone lame with exhaustion._

All was quiet late that night at the Cottons' when Rose came in. She was soaked and spattered from the autumn rain and her hard journey so she took her things off in the entrance and silently padded down the burrow to the bath room. Never had she felt so filthy and utterly spent and it seemed to take forever to get the water heated but finally the tub was ready and Rose sank gratefully into it. The waves of hot water sloshing around her as she rocked slowly soothed her away from her previous distressed state though she hardly felt less miserable. When she finally dried off after a second tub full, she felt like one of last year's wrinkly apples that she had cleared out in September to make room for the new crop. After checking a mirror to see that she hadn't missed any spots, she slipped on a nightshirt, hid the ruined, bloodstained clothes in a drawer, and went to bed.

Later that night in the next bedroom, Frodo woke up with a start. The room was not quite dark but silent. _Was that a noise? Or yet another nightmare from Mordor?_ No. Those always left him in a cold sweat. _What?_ There was a noise again. Something barely audible from the room next door. _Sam?_ No. He was in Nib’s room on the other side. Frodo got up and went to the wall.

"You... hhrrr... how.... grrr...unh...urnh!" Rose Cotton's long forgotten voice came through the wall. Frodo stood there trying to decide whether he should be listening at all. Obviously Rose had come home. Maybe Sam was already aware of that fact.

"Nooo!" Something about Rose’s cry was so anguished and forlorn that Frodo immediately ran out into the hall and he threw open her door. She was alone after all. The faintest light of dawn was creeping in and he could see her sitting up with her head in her hands.

"Rose! Are you all right? Do you want me to get Sam?"

Her head snapped up. "No, don't!" she gasped.

Frodo walked over to the bed and sat in the chair beside. "Are you all right?" he asked again, watching her worriedly. _Whatever is wrong?_ He could see she was shaking and crying quietly. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Rose straightened up, somewhat pridefully making an effort to pull herself together. "It's over. I'm fine now," she said grimly. Frodo moved to brush a tear off her cheek but Rose angrily snatched his hand away. "Don't touch me!" He flinched visibly and she looked down, embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Frodo. I'm not myself just now. Please don't worry Sam about it." She shyly squeezed Frodo's hand in both of hers then quickly withdrew her hands, smiling ruefully. "Well, the day will begin soon and I don't think I can get back to sleep now. If you don't mind, Mr. Frodo, would you tell about what you've done since I saw you last?" She glanced at the maimed hand that she had heard so many rumours about. "Tell me something about the Elven places you’ve been to. I think we both need something beautiful right now. Then I'll make you an early breakfast."

Frodo smiled. It was good to be back among hobbits who could still set aside a bad dream or misfortune and get right back to life's simple rhythm. "Where do I begin...."

By the time she got up to make breakfast, Rose had indeed been delighted and awed by the Elvish stories Frodo told and she shed some tears too when he also told of the brave Man Boromir's fall defending his cousins Merry and Pippin. She guessed the stories about Frodo and Sam's later travels would have to wait. The rumours spoke of things too dark to ask a near stranger like Mr. Frodo about. For now she was satisfied to know that Sam and Misters Frodo and Merry and Pippin were all right.

***

The weather improved the next day but the brown mud lay about like an earth-bound cloud obscuring the green sunshine of Shire flora. It would take a couple more sunny days before the soil was dried enough to make outdoor work possible. In the meantime Sam had started preparing to survey the Shire by sorting through the remains of the Bag End tool shed. He didn't relish the thought of seeing all the the damage wrought by Saruman. He had already seen enough. He paused often to think of the choice he had been faced with at Galadriel's mirror: to return to the Shire in an effort to to prevent this very destruction, or to go forward into uncertainty. It had been hard at the time but he knew he had made the right decision. That didn't make his task now any less heart wrenching.

 

One morning Frodo and Sam were enjoying a quiet digestive break between breakfasts in the parlour, discussing plans for the day. "Sam, why don't you take Rosie with you today? I'll wager she can help more than I could," said Frodo.

Sam chuckled. "That she might. If she could bring herself to get her hands dirty. The Rosie I grew up with wouldn't dig up a potato if she was starving." Sam thought back to the last party he had seen her at before the Journey. She had looked perfect to his eyes. She was not of the humour nor of enough money to put on airs but she was always meticulously clean and proper. As the only Cotton girl among four brothers, she had been expected to help inside the house but never outside. Her hands were never stained with soil or sun. So many hobbits still didn't fully appreciate how much the world had changed outside of the scouring of the Shire; how much sacrifice had been made. How could Rose possibly understand?

"The Rosie you knew wouldn't perhaps. But give her a chance anyway, Sam. You've been so busy with planning how to restore the Shire, you haven't seen that she's not a tweenager anymore," Frodo said as he smiled over Sam’s head.

"I'm so glad you noticed." Rose arched an eyebrow as she came into the parlour. "You're right, Mr. Frodo. I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty any more. I'll just see about borrowing Ma's cloak and we can be off."

***

True to her word, Rose took a lively interest in restoring the greenery of the Shire. She spent at least part of most days helping Sam. Only if it threatened rain would she not go. Rain did more than dampen her spirits; her mood became sharp and reclusive and her parents wondered at the change in their daughter since the Travellers had come back.

One sunny morning, she was out planting again when she decided to ask Sam about something that was growing on her mind. "Sam? What’s wrong with Mr. Frodo? He's been up at night a lot."

Sam looked up from the fallen branch he was cutting. "What do you mean - a lot? I'm afraid I've been so tired an oliphaunt couldn't wake me. Sometimes I find him curled up on my bed in the morning although I don’t feel him climb on."

Rose leaned on her shovel and thought a moment. "So that's where he went. Last night his door was open and his bed empty. You see, I haven’t been sleeping well lately myself, and sometimes I’ve encountered him in the kitchen when I went to make some tea to help me sleep. We'll talk a little, mostly about beautiful things like Elves and the ocean but he still seems awfully sad. I wish I knew what’s troubling him but it’s not my place to ask and he’d insist he was fine anyway. He’s right stubborn that way. I think he needs to talk to you but perhaps he doesn't want to bother you."

"I see.” Sam frowned, almost feeling chastised. “Thanks for telling me, Rosie. I can't stand for him to be unhappy yet I didn’t see just how bad it was. He needs his Sam and I haven't been there. I'll see if I can talk with him after dinner."

"You'd better. Does he know you are moving back with your gaffer when the house on New Row is finished next week?"

Sam frowned as he picked up his saw again. "No."

 

That evening Frodo volunteered himself and Sam to clean up after dinner, saving Sam the awkward task of trying to get Frodo aside. He shooed Mrs. Cotton out of the kitchen then reluctantly told Frodo of his impending removal back to the Gaffer's home. He expected some protest but was surprised to find Frodo was all in favour of it.

"The quest is long finished now, Sam, and we are safe in the Shire again. It's time you stopped worrying about me and concerned yourself with your own happiness. You have to be whole, with or without me. Gandalf told me once that he believed dear old Bilbo would not be permanently harmed by the Ring because he finally gave it up of his own accord." Frodo's face clouded over as a phantom pain niggled at him. His voice dropped almost to a whisper as he said, "You know that I claimed it for my own and it was taken by force. I fear the Ring claimed me and it is like part of me fell into the Crack of Doom with it."

"Oh, Mr. Frodo! Don't say that! You are here with me." Sam clutched Frodo's hand and his tears fell on the maimed stump. "All of you that matters. I couldn't have borne it if you hadn't come back."

"Dear Sam. I would not have come back if it weren't for you. I doubt not that you will be with me to the end of my days in Middle-Earth." Frodo could not bear to tell Sam he also didn't doubt that those days would be far too few.

***

Rose stopped on her way home from market as she passed Bag End to watch Sam and Frodo talking outside. It was a rare winter sunny day and they had been taking full advantage of the chance to work on restoring the once beautiful hobbit hole to its former condition. Sam was gesturing out a map of the new garden. Frodo's smile was framed with smudges of paint and sawdust. To Rose, they looked happier than anytime since they had come back to the Shire. The sight made her own heart lift higher than it had been in weeks.

As Rose regarded them, she thought back to the Sam and Mr. Frodo she had known less than two years ago. Sam had been one of several lads calling upon her and although she had come to think of him as her future husband, never yet had he spoken the words she expected to hear. To be honest, she hadn't felt ready to hear them herself, not then. Long months of waiting did not turn her heart toward any of those remaining in the Shire. Then Sam came back, and Mr. Frodo. Mr. Frodo she really hadn't known personally at all before but now he was so friendly and kind to her whole family that she saw why Sam was so devoted.

Her mother had painted a picture of an interesting choice before her: a nice but simple life with Sam or a life as the wife of one of the richest hobbits in the Shire. Either was possible. Yet that a daughter should not ignore the sage advice of her mother who knew which was the better choice.

Rose could certainly love Mr. Frodo but in her heart she knew he would always need something more than what she could give him. She often caught him with a sad faraway look in his eyes, like he was watching a dream fade away. On the other hand, everything about Sam felt like spring bursting forth. His garden, his laughter, his way with his little nieces and nephews. But did his devotion to Frodo leave any room for her?

Rose sighed. She would wait a little while longer. Either way.  



	2. Winter 1419-1420

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose Cotton is having nightmares. She, Sam and Frodo try to settle back into life after the Scouring.>

The rain was warm and cold at the same time. Looking up, Rose squinted her eyes against the pelting drops. The westering sun cast a warm red glow from the below the skirts of the clouds.

_Wake up._

The storm was passing. Where before the rain had pounded down drowning out all else, now Rose only heard a quiet gurgle as the storm’s violence drained away.

_Wake up!_

Rose struggled up though the layers of sleep. _So heavy._ She couldn’t breathe. _He’s too heavy._ She squirmed and wrestled and woke up sweating despite the cold night air that seeped through the tangled sheets. The other bedcoverings had all fallen on the floor. It was the third night this week she’d woken up gasping with her heart pounding. Last week her mother had heard something and come in. Rose was mortified at being caught and she had moved her bed to the side furthest from her parents’ room. _Did they hear this time?_ She picked up the fallen blankets so she could duck her head under again, hoping to maintain silence the rest of the night. Suddenly she realized it wasn’t silent even now. _Ah, no. Mr. Frodo’s crying again._ The sound was so quiet even the lightest sleeper wouldn’t hear but Rose had become attuned to it from her many nights of insomnia.

Her own nightmare forgotten in her worry for their houseguest, she tapped twice on the wall to warn him, pulled on a robe and went to knock properly on Mr. Frodo’s door.

“Come on in, Rose.” Frodo had already composed himself and was sitting up drinking a glass of water. “Sorry to wake you. I accidentally knocked the glass against the ewer so hard I thought it would shatter.”

“Don’t you worry about me, sir. I was awake already. And if you don’t mind my saying, it wasn’t the clink of glass I heard, Mr. Frodo.” Rose sat down in the nearby reading chair and leaned her arms on her knees in an earnest listening posture. “Will you tell me about your dream? I know I’m not Sam but I hope I am your friend too. Is there anything I can do for you.”

He looked into her face and saw the same expression of desperate hope that Sam would get as he tried to stop Frodo slipping away. At times like this, while the dream was still fresh.... The pity in her eyes will surely disappear as soon as she knows what was in my heart. “I put It on. I couldn’t throw the ring away. If Gollum hadn’t taken my finger....”

“Sshh.” One of her hands reached to cover his maimed hand as if to hush its silent torment but it remaining hovering an inch above. She had trod over so many boundaries already. “It’s over now and we’re all safe.”

“But it’s very purpose was to cast the world into darkness. At the final test, I chose the ring over all that I knew and loved.” He covered his face in shame. “And I want it still,” he whispered.

“There now. Don’t take on so.” Rose finally began to understand that Mr. Frodo suffered from more than unasked for memories relived in the night. “Sam says he doesn’t think anyone else could have even got the ring to the mountain. It doesn’t matter how it fell into the Crack of Doom. You got it there and you saved us.”  
  
“Yes, you were saved,” Frodo said bitterly. “But I can’t forget what I did because it haunts my dreams even if I know better in the daylight.” He sighed tiredly. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I know you care but you can’t help me.”

“I want to. Let me.”

“Go away!” he snarled. “I don’t want your pity.” His eyes were hard now.

“But...”

“GET OUT!”

Rose fled back to her room in tears, damning the evil which had caused so much grief to all those she knew. She wished Sam was still staying in her home. If anyone could put things right, she thought he could. Her thoughts were interrupted a moment later by a light knock on her still open door.

“Rose? May I come in?” When Frodo perceived a small nod from her hunched shaking form he stepped in and closed the door without latching it. “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he said quietly.

“No, I’m sorry, Mr. Frodo.” Rose straightened, feeling awkwardly formal. “ I’ve overstepped my position. I won’t bother you again.” She still couldn’t shake the wish to ease his obvious suffering. “But it’s no bother to me if you do want to talk or you want some tea or anything.”

“Thank you. Not tonight. Sometimes some things are just too difficult to speak about.” He opened the door to leave then turned his head to speak to Rose once more. “But you know that, don’t you?”

“Mr. Frodo? What...?”

“I’ve heard you as well. You could talk to me if you like, too. But then, friends don’t have to tell each other everything. They can just know they have a friend who understands.”

“Yes, Mr. Frodo,” said Rose, feeling very tired now that there seemed to be some kind of resolution, some redrawing of lines. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

 

***

Sam looked forward to Sunday mornings. Rose would come over to make bread for the Gamgees and their neighbours, giving him another chance to be around her. He could see her through the kitchen window as he wheeled topsoil around to where he was preparing a new herb garden. Usually by the end of the morning she would end up looking as ghostly as a barrow-wight from all the flour she would stir up into the air. One time as Sam made a trip past he dropped his jaw, then the wheelbarrow. In the hot kitchen, Rose had taken off her blouse and was now wearing just her sleeveless underblouse, the hem partially hanging out above her skirt. Sam watched fascinated as she pummeled the dough. He had never realized just how strong she was. Soft shadows flickered every time she leaned on the squishy mass of flour and yeast; little ripples of muscle in her jaw, her arms, her chest above the neckline...

"Sam, if you need a break please go inside for a cup of tea. You can hardly rest standing up."

Sam whirled his head to see Frodo coming up the path. He opened his mouth to say something but found himself just gasping for air as he had forgotten to breathe. He could feel his blood rushing to his face but didn't want Frodo to see why. "I... I just set down to rid myself of a bothersome midge. Here now, let me show you the new herb garden. It’s right this way." He awkwardly bent down to get the wheelbarrow again and hurried around the side of the house.

Frodo watched Sam's strange new waddle with a barely contained laugh as he pondered wickedly whether to tell Rose about it.

In the kitchen, Rose looked up from the dough as Sam’s shadow left the window and she smiled to herself.

***

Yule celebrations were bigger than ever that year for most everyone in the Shire. Though there was no great stock of supplies left from the occupation of Men, song and good cheer were abundant enough to make up for that. However, Sam knew Frodo would want something more peaceful than an inn packed with rambunctious hobbits so he invited Frodo and Rose to spend the evening at the Gamgee home. There was a nice coney stew for dinner, this time made proper with carrots, onions, and taters. And after that, Rosie, Sam, and Frodo sat on the couch as Sam's Gaffer told stories from his oversize chair on the other side of the fireplace. Later conversation turned to the current state of the Shire, spring weather predictions and news of certain oversized hobbits galavanting about. Long after the Gaffer had gone to bed, the three of them were still talking. Rose went to make more tea but when she got back she found Frodo asleep against Sam's shoulder and Sam looked ready to nod off himself. She set the tray down quietly and sat opposite them.

Sam became fully alert at the sound of the porcelain rattling slightly. He found Rose staring intently at him, her face unreadable. Sam blushed slightly.

"That's not very polite of us to fall asleep and leave a lass without any company. I bet we look like the old gaffers and gammers who always sleep through the end of the party."

"Mm hmm. Don't wake him. I’d hate to interrupt any peaceful rest he gets.” Rose smiled affectionately. “Your gaffer won’t mind if you tuck him in here on the couch, will he? Then you can walk me home."

A little while later they were on their way back to the Cotton home. The night was clear and cold and made for sharing.

"Do you miss sleeping under the stars, Sam?" asked Rose. "As a child I used to think it sounded so romantic until I was finally allowed to and then I woke up with a swarm of midge bites. It was many years before I wanted to do that again. It often seems that reality is much harder than the adventure we imagined."

"That it is. I don't miss the fear and the cold and the hard ground. But I had a job to do with Mr. Frodo and I never felt so needed in my life. I miss him in a strange way even though he's right here."

"He will always need you, you know. Even if he had a staff of ten at Bag End.” Rose gazed admiringly at Sam. “ You are not just his servant anymore: you are such a good friend to him and that is everything," said Rose.“I hope I can be such a friend."

"You will be. You are. I've seen how much you care about him. It's like you understand a little of what we went through out there. Most Shirefolk don't seem to care much." He looked at her as they strode along and wondered how he ever thought she might be nothing more than a pretty face. “I thought of you many times on the long road back. But now back with you, the reality is much better than anything I imagined." He reached for her hand and was gratified when she laced her fingers through his. They walked on in silence.

At the door of her home, Rose reluctantly let go of Sam's hand. "Goodnight Sam. You'd better hurry home before your gaffer wonders if you’ve run off again."

"All right. But not before I get a kiss goodnight for Yule." He pointed to his right cheek which dimpled slightly as he fought off a smile. Rose stood on tiptoe and planted a small kiss but as she put her heels down she pressed her forehead to Sam's face a little longer. She heard him sigh. "No sense in leaving a job half-done my gaffer always says," chuckled Sam as he pointed to his left cheek. Rose blushed and smiled. As she reached up, Sam turned his head so Rose found her lips not on his cheek but on his mouth and he kissed her.

"Oh!" She almost fell over backwards but Sam caught her by the shoulders. She looked up to see a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. His eyes crinkled with gentle amusement. Rose wanted to say something but her mind was momentarily blank. She just stared wide-eyed at him as her heart thudded so hard it seemed there was no room left in her lungs for air.

Sam kissed the curls on her forehead then closed her eyes by kissing each one. When he kissed the tip of her nose she tilted up to kiss his chin. Then their mouths found each other. Sam's hands slid up to hold her face as the kiss deepened. Rose felt the fine hairs on her neck begin to stand up until she couldn't suppress a little shiver that broke their kiss.

"That's not how you kissed me when we played spin-the-bottle at your birthday party two years ago."

***

It was a busy winter that year. Frequent comings and goings between Hobbiton and Buckland kept all the Travellers as close friends as could be. In the midst of all these happy gatherings though, Rose and Sam found little time to be alone together. Sam finally begged off a weekend at Crickhollow as he was exhausted from all his forestry work. A fresh snowfall on the ground provided the perfect motivation for a lazy afternoon together with Rose curled up by the fire as her weekly batch of bread was in the oven.

Sam smiled as Rose kissed him. "Keep that up and some lad might want to marry you some day," he teased.

Rose pushed him away none too gently. "That's hard, Samwise Gamgee. I've already waited more than a year you see. My Da's started inviting a few lads over for dinner and still others for supper. It isn't right to be put up for bid. The auction block feels like a chopping block, it does. If you don't want me then I'd rather be alone."

"Rosie! You know how I feel." Sam blushed right down to the follicles on his feet.

"But you haven't clearly spoken, if you take my meaning. Da obviously isn't convinced of your intentions. Now that you've moved back in with your gaffer, we each see Mr. Frodo more than we do each other."

"Now Rosie, that isn't fair. I'm working with him on Bag End. It was in a sore condition not fit for an animal to live in. Besides that, I can't just stop being there for him now after everything."

"Of course. I don't begrudge you that. You are his dearest friend. That's one of the things I love about you. I'm just saying ... I wish ... I mean .... Will you marry me, Samwise Gamgee?" Rose clapped her hand to her mouth. "Oh! I'm sorry. That's not proper of me to ask. Forget I said that. I...I'll leave you be now." She stood up and quickly turned to go in order to end the awkward moment.

"Yes."

Rose froze. She felt Sam put a hand on her shoulder and turned around. She searched his eyes for any hint of uncertainty or resentment. It wasn’t her place to ask first; to put him on the spot.

"I'll marry you, Rose Cotton. I love you." Then Sam held her face and kissed her.

***

As the winter of 1420 in the Shire waned, Sam eagerly spent much time traveling about, checking on the plantings he made using Galadriel's gift of magic dust from Lothlorien. On the early local trips Frodo, or sometimes Rose, would usually accompany him. Frodo was often quiet but he drew happiness from sharing in his best friend's delight in growing things. When Rose was along, Sam found himself talking about events on the Journey that he never told anyone else in the Shire about. Rose listened attentively but she knew better than to press him when the memories became too dark.

Soon Sam had surveyed the whole Hobbiton and Bywater area and often he had to go for days at a time to see more distant areas. So it came that Sam was away alone in March. He never knew how badly he was missed one morning as Rose found herself caught up in an unexpected happening at the Cotton home.

"Da! Can you go rouse Mr. Frodo? Second breakfast is almost ready and we still haven't seen him today. Tell him Ma made a bacon, mushroom, and egg pie specially for him."

A few minutes later, Farmer Cotton came into the kitchen and said, "Rosie dear, Mr. Frodo is not well. Would you go see what you can do for him?"

"Sure, Da. Are you going for the healer?" asked Rose.

"I don't rightly think there's aught the healer can do. It’s too bad Sam is away, he might know what’s best. Now get along and see to him, dear."

"Mr. Frodo?" Rose knocked on the door. "Are you all right?" No answer. She hesitantly opened the door. In the dim light of the drawn curtains, she could see Frodo on the bed, one hand clutching something to his breast. As she approached, she could barely see the white gem of Arwen Evenstar through the gap made by Frodo's missing finger. "Mr. Frodo, what's wrong?" Still no response. Worried, Rose touched his arm. She was relieved but not really comforted to hear a slight whimper. His eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling.

She laid her hand over his to comfort him, but he jerked away and sat up shouting, "It was mine! Thief! There's nothing left now!" Then he struck her with such surprising force that she fell down. Frodo didn't even seem to notice that he was now leaning completely off the bed and he fell like a stone face down on the floor beside Rose.

She was aghast. She had never before seen Frodo violent, nor hardly even angry. The pain in her temple paled beside the pain in her heart as she looked at his prostrate form. She picked up the white gem and its broken chain from the floor and tucked it into Frodo's hand, then placed his hand by his breast. She stroked the hair from his brow and cried to see how his face looked pale as death itself. "Oh Mr. Frodo! Don't you leave us. Not like this."

Frodo gagged and coughed and scrabbled at the floor until he opened his eyes and found himself back in the Shire. Shelob was dead, Gollum was dead and he....

He wept. Rose gathered him to her and held him until the sobs no longer racked their bodies. Then she kissed his face and hands and curled around him on the cold hard floor. They slept dreamlessly until almost sunset, then Frodo roused himself enough to offer an unnecessary apology and order Rose out. She would return as much as he allowed to ensure he had enough warmth in the room and make him take a little food. Her parents raised their eyebrows when she wouldn’t let them tend Frodo in his illness but she had become very strong-willed since the Shire was freed. By the end of the third day he had recovered from his spell. And when Sam got back to Hobbiton ten days later on March 25th, Rose's bruises had healed and she said nothing about it to him.  



	3. Spring and Summer 1420

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose Cotton is having nightmares. She, Sam and Frodo try to settle back into life after the Scouring.>

By April, the Shire was bursting forth with so much new growth that it lifted the spirits of all who lived within its borders. The marks of Sharkey’s reign were still painfully evident throughout the land but all the hobbits set to cleaning up with a vigor. The Gaffer was frequently heard spouting a new homily, “Where there’s green, there’s hope.”

Sam himself was busier than ever. He hadn’t yet told Rose they would be moving into Bag End at Frodo’s invitation. He was running himself almost ragged between moving preparations, Shire restoration and planning a wedding but Rose was happy that the last meant Sam almost lived at the Cottons' for a while again. She sometimes insisted that Sam must be too tired to walk home at the end of an evening if it was very late or the weather was wet so he often would sleep in the spare room Frodo had used in autumn.

One night about a week before the wedding, Sam’s slumber was interrupted by a small orc prodding him.

"Sam? You awake?" whispered the soft-voiced orc... with long curly hair... and unusually small teeth.

Sam blinked in the dark, not sure if he was dreaming or awake. "Rosie? Is something the matter?”

"My dear clumsy brother Nibs broke a pane in my window while painting the frame but he didn't fix it yet. You know I can't stand the rain but it started blowing right in and I can't go back to sleep.... Can I climb in with you?"

“Um... I don’t know that it’s fitting with the wedding still a week away and all. Why don't you go sleep with Nibs? It's his fault."

"Oh, he hasn't let me sleep with him since he was about fourteen. Said he was getting too old. Besides, I’d rather be with you, fitting or not." Rose walked around the other side of the bed and slipped in, nestling up against Sam's back. "This is nice," she murmured and then she was deep asleep.

Sam just smiled down at the loose fist Rose had wormed around his chest. _Yes. This is nice._ It was a long time before he got back to sleep himself.

 

Shortly before dawn, Rose was dreaming. She'd had such dreams before but this time was a little different. It was more tangible; she could feel Him with her. She let out a little moan. She felt His body move against hers, His breath in her face, and it was pushing her toward a frenzy.

Beside her, Sam had been staring at the wall thinking about the upcoming wedding day when he had heard a sound from Rose. He rolled over to face her; enjoying the closeness of her body to his, the way her breath mingled with his. The predawn light made her curls seem like a halo around her still-shadowed face. He smiled at the thought of waking up like this every morning and decided to wake her with a kiss. As his lips brushed hers, he felt an explosion in his groin. Rose's knee had come up hard against his morning fullness. Then Sam felt strong fists slam into his chest, knocking out what little wind he had left after the first assault on his body. Rose kicked and growled until an incapacitated Sam was on the floor curled into a ball of rather delicate agony.

After sucking in a couple of shaky breaths to recover from the shock, Sam peered over the edge of the bed. Rose was sitting up straight gasping for air.

"Rose?" he asked warily.

Rose turned her head with unseeing horror in her eyes. "Where is He? He wants... He tried... hn?... Sam?... Is He gone?"

"Is who gone?"

"Him. He..." Rose shook her head trying to clear her thoughts.

"You must have had a nightmare." Sam climbed back onto the bed and kneeled beside her. "It's over, my dear." Rose just clung to him as tears leaked out. Sam felt an ache in his heart as Rose trembled in his arms. He was reminded of all the times he had held Frodo like this when he tried to shut the Red Eye from his mind. He stroked her hair and whispered, "Rosie love. Your Sam is here. Come back to me."

At last Rose sat back and hung her head down as a few sniffles escaped. Sam cupped her chin with one hand and wiped away her tears with his thumb.

"Can you tell me about it? A burden is easier carried by two than one, mark me," said Sam. He took her hands in his and held her eyes with his in total acceptance.

Rosie closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see that acceptance turn to disgust or horror. "I was dreaming about last November. It was the day I got back home after the Battle although I didn’t arrive until after everyone had gone to bed already." She paused gathering courage. "I had walked around for ages trying to forget my nightmarish encounter earlier that day but it haunts me still. There was a Man..." She shuddered at the memory of the Southron man who found her riding through the woods. His hand covering her mouth; the waves of alcoholic breath. Rose let go of Sam's hands and curled into herself, closing her eyes, her nightshirt wrapped like a shroud.

“He tried to rape me," she whispered. Saying the words made it real all over again. She remembered her knee in His groin, then His dropped knife in her hand, the weight almost crushing her as He sprawled. Striking again and again, the rain becoming warm and red. Red as wrinkly old apples. She barely managed to choke out, "I killed him." She waited, not knowing what to expect.

She could feel Sam shift on the bed. _He's leaving,_ Rose thought. But then he picked her up and set her in his lap and wrapped his arms and legs all around her. He kissed her hair and nuzzled her ear and she felt safer than she had in a long time.

"Oh, Rose! My dear brave Rose. I didn’t know. How terrible! That oughtn't have happened to you. I won't never let anything bad happen to you again!" he said fiercely, squeezing her even tighter against his chest.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Samwise Gamgee. You couldn't always protect Mr. Frodo either but you always loved him and in the end you saved him. We can never know what's around the next bend. Just promise you will always love me, too."

“I will. I do.” And he held her so close that no further words were needed.

 

***

The rain settled in for the rest of that day. Rose eventually slept through first and second breakfast but Sam had gotten up as soon as he was sure she had fallen asleep again. When he came out of the privy, he was surprised to find Rose’s mother waiting for him and she shoved him into the nearest empty room.

Normally Mrs. Cotton was as gracious and friendly as any hobbit but she could be truly formidable when her ire was raised. "Your wedding is in a week! Just couldn't wait, could you?"

Sam was stunned by the accusing tone in her voice. "What's this all about? What are you suggesting?"

"You know very well, Samwise Gamgee. Rosie always helps me make breakfast and when she didn’t come I went to get her and found her bed soaked with rain, so then I went to ask if you had seen her but the only answer was snoring so I went in to rouse you, and there she is in your bed. Her eyes are all puffy like she's been crying. I don’t need three guesses to know who to hunt down." Mrs. Cotton's voice went up another octave. "I want an explanation straight up! What have you done?"

"We didn't do nothing wrong, Mrs. Cotton.” Sam fought the urge to shrink away from her wrath. He would not make matters worse by giving a false appearance of guilt. “She couldn't sleep with the rain blowing into her room through that broken window. She climbed in with me and was fast asleep a moment later. That’s all."

"What about the noises I heard near dawn?” She poked a finger at Sam’s chest. “Hmmm? At the time I thought she was having one of her dreams she won't talk about so I let her alone then but I started to worry more and more as I waited for her in the kitchen.”

Sam had just about had all he could stand of accusations. "That was one of those dreams. That's what she was crying about. We talked a little after that and then she went back to sleep."

"Why would Rose talk to YOU about things she won't even talk to her own mother abou...?"

"Begging your pardon,” Sam interrupted, “but she knows her own mind and it ain't my place to tell you about it." Sam took a deep breath before continuing, "I'll be wanting a good long talk today with her. In private." Sam's voice softened a little. "I'll suggest she have another talk with you and Mr. Cotton after that but it's her choice."

Mrs. Cotton looked long and hard at Sam and saw that he would not be moved on this. Though still deeply troubled, she had not seen any sign of guilt or deceit in Sam's manner. She waved him back into the hall.  
"At least put Rose into one of her brothers’ rooms then you can help me finish making breakfast. I'll take care of explaining Rosie's absence to Mr. Cotton."

Sam went back to his guest room where Rose was still sleeping. Her eyes were indeed still a little puffy but she looked at peace. He slowly folded the covers back and it seemed she had never looked so small to him. Yet everywhere that she was exposed by the twisted nightshirt he saw her strength too. Little had he known all those weeks ago when he watched her making bread that he would be ever so glad Rose wasn't as soft and refined after all as some hobbit lasses.

Leaning over the bed he lifted her shoulders first and settled her head against his own shoulder then scooped up her legs. Rose nuzzled into his neck and settled back into the slow breathing of deep sleep. Sam felt the warm air ruffle through his open collar into the hair on his chest and, it seemed, all the way to his heart which began beating so loudly he feared it would wake Rose up. Quickly he tucked her into Nibs’ empty bed and hurried back to his guest room.

_Oh, bother! Get a hold of yourself, Samwise Gamgee. One week. Mrs. Cotton didn't mean to put ideas in your head._

By the time Sam got back to the kitchen, there was naught to do but set the table for breakfast. The meal was eaten virtually in silence. After, Sam avoided conversation by busying himself with checking which invited wedding guests had not yet responded. Second breakfast, too, was a quiet affair until they were almost done. Finally Mrs. Cotton said to her husband, "Tom dear, I want you to come to the market with me this morning to look at some things for the wedding."

Mr. Cotton scowled at Sam, then at his son Nibs and said, "Certainly, love. I have to go anyway to pick up some glass so Nibs can fix Rosie's window. I hope there isn't too much damage in the room from his carelessness." Nibs' ears turned red with embarrassment over disappointing his father. "He can come along too so he sees just how much it's going to cost him if he breaks something again."

 

The Cottons had gone into market and Sam had started preparing elevenses before Rose finally appeared. She was so famished that she started nibbling bacon right out of the pan even though it burned her fingers to do so. Sam gently swatted her hand away saying, "Good things come to those who wait." A moment later, Rose was puzzled to see a blush engulf Sam's face.

Rose polished off her plate of food in no time. "Too bad it's raining or I would be out picking fiddlehead ferns. I'm that hungry." She proceeded to steal one of Sam's biscuits by way of example.

Sam looked at her carefully and said, "Rose, when did you start to hate the rain?"

The biscuit stopped in front of her open mouth. "What?"

"I remember catching a nasty cold a few years ago because you loved to walk in the rain. I recall thinking that was your plan all along so you could come nurse me back to health." Sam put his hand on her arm and asked again, "When did the rain turn from friend to enemy?"

Rose's appetite failed and she put the biscuit down. "You know when."

"Aye. I think you should tell me more about that night. Did... did he hurt you? You said he tried but...well, you got away and I hope it wasn't... too late. You can tell me, no matter what."

Rose feigned fascination with cutting a bit of potato into ever smaller crumbs on her plate. Suddenly her concentration was broken by the knife slipping out of her shaking fingers and clattering onto the floor. She gripped the edges of her chair to steady herself and took a halting breath before starting.

"It was a rather dark afternoon when I was coming home though the forest when a Man suddenly jumped out into the road. My pony startled and I fell off. He quickly wrapped one hand over my mouth and the other grabbed between my legs and he picked me right up like that. He said something about wanting to enjoy ‘a little tidbit’ before leaving the Shire. He carried me back into the trees a way then threw me down. He was on me again before I could get away. He was huge. And he had a knife. He said, 'Squeak all you like, little mouse. No one will hear you out here. Be still and you might even enjoy this.' That's when I looked down and knew exactly what he wanted."

Rose shivered and looked around the room as if to reassure herself that she really wasn't back in the forest. "Rape. By one of the big folk. I had never thought about what the word really meant. I remembered Ma saying it was better to die fighting than to let that happen. He would probably kill me anyway. I just kicked up with all I had right between his legs before he... before he could... do... do that... to me. He gasped and fell over a little, letting go of his knife. I didn’thave time to think. I just grabbed it and stabbed him through the neck." She stared down at her hands twisting together in her lap, unable to look at Sam.

Sam's heart wrenched as her blunt words brought terrible images to his mind but he held his tongue and let Rose continue.

"I hate to think of what battle must be like. So much blood.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “It came spurting out of him; stung my eyes. I could feel him clawing at me and I just kept striking until he stopped. He was so heavy, I could hardly crawl out from under him. I just left him there and started for home. I found the pony but left it behind when it started getting lame again. I walked the rest of the way, hoping the rain would rinse off the last of the blood. I thought I would never get clean. I destroyed the clothes later." She fell silent.

"And you never told anyone? Why did you keep it to yourself?" he asked, concerned, tears welling up in his eyes.

"At first I just wanted to forget. After all that Man wasn't going to bother anyone else and everyone had so many worries of their own after the all the troubles." A tear rolled down Rose's cheek. "And later I started to worry you wouldn't want me anymore if you knew what I had done."

"No! You're my Rose. That's never going to change." He pulled her into his lap and kissed her hair. "You did what you had to, my brave lass." He turned her face to his and kissed her, just enough to let her know his feelings hadn’t changed. "I think you should talk to your Ma and Da. They've been right worried." He smiled somewhat wretchedly. "I got quite an earful from your Ma just this morning."

***

The wedding was held on a beautiful spring day beside the mallorn tree in Bilbo's party field. Frodo, as Deputy Mayor, presided. After their kiss to conclude the ceremony, Sam and Rose grabbed Frodo and sandwiched him with a kiss on each cheek. The celebrating went on until the next morning. Frodo kindly arranged for so much entertainment that Rose and Sam were hardly missed when they slipped away after sunset.

The next morning Sam came into the Bag End kitchen and found Frodo nodding over his breakfast tea at the table. A few broken notes of singing still drifted in from the party field. Frodo’s official sash was askew and he looked even more tired than Sam felt. Sam squeezed onto the bench and nudged Frodo companionably. "Mr. Frodo, I thought you'd learned your lesson at Bilbo's eleventy-first birthday party and would make sure to send everyone home before midnight. Did you get ANY sleep?"

"Are you kidding? There were guests to be looked after. And besides, I didn't want you listening for me snoring on your wedding night."

Sam blushed redder than the roses outside the kitchen window. "You don't snore. But just in case you start in your old age, we've moved into the far end of the burrow." He chuckled. "Maybe by then we will have some little ones in the room next to yours and they will drown you out."

A couple of months later, Rose confirmed Sam's happy threat by announcing there would be a new little Gardner the next spring. Frodo barely contained his urge to smother her in a hug and settled on a kiss and a squeeze of the hand. "Mr. Frodo! I haven't turned into glass, you know!" Frodo didn't hear because he was already spinning Sam around the room.

***

As summer deepened, Frodo became more and more preoccupied with his writing and began to retreat from Shire doings. By September, Rose and Sam felt a growing worry though Frodo would always brush it off. One night, after her regular late meal (Sam had started calling it 'twoses'), Rose saw a light under Frodo's door. She knocked and heard a flat "What?" from the other side.

Inside the room she found Frodo sitting cross-legged on his bed with his traveling pack in front of him. "Mr. Frodo, what's wrong? We hardly see you these days. Now you look like you are going on a trip that you haven't told us about." She looked at the dark circles on his pale face. "Are you having those dreams again?"

Frodo fingered his white gem and murmured, "The road goes ever on and on.” He looked up with haunted eyes. “My journey out of Mordor still isn't finished, Rose. Someday I will have to set out again though it be even harder than leaving Rivendell or Lothlorien."

Rose stared intently into his eyes. Seeing that he was not muttering dream words, she said, "You can't leave. It would break our hearts. Sam's especially."

Frodo glanced at the slight bulge of Rose's stomach meaningfully. "He can't be torn in so many ways, dear Rose, and he can't be whole so long as I am not. Someday I will heed the call to go oversea for healing. You will have to look after Sam. I can't."

"I will, but you can't go yet, Mr. Frodo." Rose knew Frodo was right but it was a bitter truth.

"You at least have to stay until the baby comes. Please? Does Sam know you are going?"

"No, Rose. And don't tell him. He is too close to me and he can't see what has to be yet."

Rose wiped the tears from her eyes and grabbed Frodo's hand, pulling him down the main hall to their end of the burrow. "Go on, Mr. Frodo. Get into bed. There's room enough for all four of us, for now. Try not to wake Sam."

In the morning, Sam woke in a comfortably crowded fog, not quite sure if he was dreaming. He seemed to be remembering a scene from the Journey. There was Frodo, pale and worn out, and himself fervently trying to provide shelter. Only it wasn't himself.

"Rose?"

Her eyes flicked open instantly. "Sshh. Don't wake him." She reached over to take Sam's hand. "I told him he's welcome anytime he can't sleep. Do you mind?"

"No." Sam smiled at the two faces he loved most in the world. "I'm glad you are here with me."

*******

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